


Alpha Wolf

by EmmyDrakon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon, Demon possession, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyDrakon/pseuds/EmmyDrakon
Summary: Once the Gates of Hell were opened, there was no telling what kind of chaos the escaped demons would cause. It seems one of them was drawn a bit off-course, and into a pushed-away part of Sam and Dean's past.





	1. Prologue

A dog barked. Crickets chirped. Soft footsteps echoed along the deserted street. The dark-haired nurse, whose name tag identified her as Roxanne, rubbed her eyes with fatigue after a long – very long – shift at the hospital. But it had been a promising day. Recovery, family visits, and the hope of a raise were all on her mind when a soft rumbling caught her attention. It sounded like thunder, only… not. She looked up, out past the rows and rows of little cookie-cutter houses. An angry black cloud was gathering on the horizon, miles and miles away, but big enough to be seen clearly, even at her distance. After a moment of eyeing the cloud dubiously, Roxanne started off down the sidewalk again, this time a little bit faster. She soon reached the corner and paused under the old, battered streetlamp to watch for idiot, late-night drivers.   
As she stood, her short high ponytail waving softly in the warm breeze, the light flickered. Startled, she looked up at the faulty lamp. As she did, it began to flicker faster and faster, almost violently flashing until it became painful to look at. But before she closed her eyes and looked away, something else caught her attention.   
The black cloud she had seen before, it had grown and spread, blanketing the sky, and hadn’t stopped there. It was continuing to spread out over her neighborhood. Soon, the only light came from the flashing of the lamp. Or, lamps. All down the street, every streetlamp was flashing wildly. Roxanne’s heart began to race. The rumbling was louder now, and smaller black clouds were breaking off from the main group, shooting off in all directions. The wind picked up as the ominous darkness drew ever nearer.   
Roxanne gripped her bag, backing slowly away and stepping carefully off the curb into the street. One of the smaller clouds broke off again and formed a funnel, hurtling straight down. Straight toward her. She only had time to scream – one short shrill shriek – then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologizing in advance: these chapters are gonna be kind of short, so I'll try to update as often as possible. I wrote this one in funky chunks.

Roxanne sat on a worn park bench near her house, leaning back into the worn wood. It was a beautiful day – the sky was a bright, vibrant blue without a cloud in sight, and a pleasant breeze ruffled the bushes behind her. But none of these things could distract her troubled mind from her immediate dilemma. It had been a month since her resignation from the hospital. Her money was running out, but she didn’t want to risk getting another job – it was too dangerous.   
Running. It’s a sign of weakness.  
Shut up! Roxanne thought angrily. A sharp pinpoint of pain bloomed at the base of her skull, making her flinch. Ever since that night, when she has collapsed in the road, she had felt this… Presence. Like someone was always watching her. Then, one day, while she was at home, a horrible headache hit her out of nowhere. It sent her, writhing, to the floor. Darkness tugged at the edges of her vision, advancing and receding. The pain decreased after about two and a half minutes, minutes that had felt like decades. She lay there on the floor, panting through choked sobs. That was the day that she first heard the voice. It was a growling, gruff, female-sounding voice that rang through her mind, echoing in every crevice. It was then that she discovered what had truly happened to her that night.   
She had been possessed. By a demon. A pretty powerful one, at that. And, for some reason, it couldn’t take control of her body, but it couldn’t escape either. From then on, they lived in grudging tolerance of one another, with the demon occasionally asserting its authority.   
“Well look who it is!”  
Roxanne was jolted from her thoughts by a cheerful male’s voice. She twisted quickly in her seat. Strolling up the path was a young man with short dirty blonde hair and mossy green eyes. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his worn leather jacket, but his grin was friendly. He looks so familiar…  
“Dean?”  
His grin widened. “I wondered if you remembered me. Roxanne, right?”  
She stood. “Yeah! It’s great to see you!” The last time she had seen him, Dean had been a broken, physically and emotionally, man. He, his brother, and their father had been in a horrible car accident, leaving Dean critically injured. While his family recovered, Roxanne had stayed by his side day and night, struggling to keep him alive. In one miraculous moment, he had woken with no injuries whatsoever. A miraculous, more than complete recovery. Unfortunately, his father hadn’t been so lucky, and had passed away in what was diagnosed as a freak heart attack only hours after Dean had awoken. That loss still weighed on her mind, although recently something even heavier had taken its place.   
She smiled, but her enthusiasm was dampened. A dull ache began to spread across the back of her head. She felt pensive, suspicious, and angry, but she knew those emotions were not her own. Something had triggered the demon.  
“Hey, you too. How you been?” He extended a hand.  
“Oh, just peachy.” She saw his smile flicker at her wording as she grasped it, earning a warm squeeze and a sharp stab in her forehead. She blinked slowly to clear her vision, struggling to keep her smile bright. This made Dean give her a harder glance, but if he really noticed anything was amiss, he didn’t comment. “What about you and your brother? Um.. Sam, right? Where is he, by the way?”  
Dean shrugged, releasing the handshake. “We’ve been alright. Took a bit of a road trip. Sam’s back in the motel.”  
The pain grew. “A road trip? I thought your car was totaled.”  
“Oh, yeah. I rebuilt her! Looks great, you should come by and see her before we roll outta town.”  
At that, the pain tripled, and nausea roiled in her gut. It took everything she had not to scream. “Ah, yeah, that’d be great. You know what, I actually have to run, but I’ll see you later!” Waving jerkily, Roxanne walked quickly away with her eyes clenched shut. When she was out of sight and earshot of the pleasant young man, she dropped to her knees and clutched at her head.  
What the hell??? Strangled groans leaked from her lips. I can’t even talk to people now??  
Not that one.  
What?? What’s wrong with Dean?? He’s just an ex-patient from ages ago, a friend! Well, not even that-  
A rumbling scoff followed by silence was her answer. Roxanne groaned in pain and exasperation.   
God help me…  
He won’t.  
Shut up.


	3. Chapter 3

Roxanne sat alone – well, sort of – at her dining room table. She leaned back in her chair with her hand wrapped loosely around a hot mug of tea. It was late, but she didn’t want to go to sleep. Night brought a whole myriad of new nightmares that set her tossing and turning until morning. Real rest was nowhere to be found.  
BANG BANG BANG BANG.  
The sound of someone apparently trying to break down her door sent her flying from her chair to her feet, biting back curses. She attempted to collect herself, but was quickly interrupted by more banging. “Ok, ok I’m coming! Two seconds!” Pulling her soft bathrobe around her, she ran to the door and opened it a crack. “Y-Dean? Wh- oh my god…” Horror welled up in her throat, clenching it shut.  
Dean was standing on her doorstep, and he looked like hell. His clothes were damp and caked with dirt and half-dried blood. His face was too, accompanied by a long cut across his right cheek. But compared to his brother, Dean had just won the local beauty pageant. All six feet and seven inches of his little brother was hanging from Dean’s shoulders, limp and bloody and obviously unconscious.   
“We need help. Please.” Dean’s eyes were pained and… Fearful?  
Even though the pain in her head came roaring back, Roxanne stepped away, opening the door wide. “Come in. Quickly.” As soon as he was in, she shut and locked the door behind them. She led him into the kitchen, moving with urgency. She snatched her mug from the kitchen table. “Lay him there. Take off his jacket and his shoes.”  
Dean did his best to gently drag his wounded brother onto the table, then strip off his outer layers. Roxanne flipped on the hot water tap in her sink and approached the table. The sight of his injuries made her gasp in horror.   
“What the… Dean, what happened?” she whispered in shock.  
Four long, deep gashes ripped across Sam’s muscled torso. It was obvious he had lost dangerous amounts of blood. His face was deathly pale, and his breathing was fast and shallow.   
Time was of the essence. As fast as she could, Roxanne pulled a large white box down from a cabinet. Putting it on the table, she opened it and started laying out the necessary supplies. Moving around the table, she pushed Dean back and deftly cut the bloodied and torn t-shirt down the middle. Carefully, she peeled it out from his chest and cast an expert eye over the gory scene. Without taking her eyes off her patient, she gestured at Dean. “Bring me the standing lamp from the living room and clean towels from the hall closet.” Once he had returned, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the living room. “Sit out there. I’ll do everything I can.”  
After a moment of protesting vehemently, Dean best to her will and retreated from the room.  
Under the light of the lamp and the kitchen bulbs, Roxanne worked steadily and carefully, without any equipment, anesthesia, or monitors. Stitch by stitch she mended each tear in Sam’s flesh. Her mind was blank – even the pain of her hitchhiker’s protests had completely vanished. All that mattered now was saving Sam’s life.

Hours passed, until the last gap had been stitched and the last patch of blood had been wiped away. Roxane stood for a moment, the energy draining from her body, and watched. Watched his sewn chest rise and fall. She raised her voice. “Dean. You can come in.”  
Footsteps pounded on the tile, announcing Dean’s frantic arrival into the makeshift operating room. He skidded to a stop next to Sam’s head, taking in the scene through anxious eyes. Roxanne could see it now: Fear burned in those stony orbs as he scanned his brother’s bare chest slashed with rows of stitching.   
Without looking up, he asked, “Is he gonna be ok?” He rested a hand on Sam’s damp hair.   
Roxanne bit her lip. “At this point… I don’t know.”  
These words seems to hit the war-torn man like a ton of bricks. He visibly wilted, sinking into one of the dining room chairs and putting his head in his hands. It was as if any strength he had left had been drained out of him.  
He looks so defeated… So broken. Even worse than when…  
Silence.   
Roxanne circled around to stand beside him, resting one hand lightly on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dean.” They just stayed there for a while, silently, one trying desperately to communicate and pour strength and hope into the other. Soon though, Roxanne knelt at his feet, looking up into his haggard face. “Hey. Let me take a look at that cut.” Her voice was soft and delicate.  
“I’m fine,” he replied gruffly.  
“No, Dean, you’re not.” Tentatively, she pushed lightly on the bottom of his chin with her fingertips. He resisted at first, but soon relented. “Let me help you.” When she got no response, she took it as a yes, gathering her supplies and tending gently to his cuts and bruises. Nobody spoke for a long time.  
When she finished, she rather reluctantly removed her hand from his rough cheek and stood slowly. “… Dean?”  
His head barely tipped toward her; his eyes never left Sam’s face.  
“You need sleep. Both of you.” She paused. “You could stay here, if you want.” Pain snaked across her forehead. “Since Sam can’t really be moved right now… I just thought I’d offer.”  
This time he looked up, a weary smile tugging valiantly at his drooping lips. “Thanks, but I’m staying with Sammy.” He turned back to Sam.  
Sighing, Roxanne placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “C’mon hotshot.” She moved her hand to underneath his arm. “Doctor’s orders.”  
For a moment he flatly refused to move. But, it turned out she had more stubbornness than he had energy. Reluctantly, he rose and allowed himself to be lead out of the kitchen and into the living room.   
Roxanne gestured to the couch. “I know it’s not the best, but at least you’ll be close to him.”  
Dean nodded gratefully. He dropped onto the cushions and stretched out, his eyelids already starting to droop. “Hey Roxanne?”  
She paused at the door. “Hm?”  
“Thanks. For everything.” Mossy green met stormy grey, genuinely and thankfully.  
Roxanne smiled softly. “Get some sleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

The hours ticked slowly by for the nurse sitting at her patient’s side. Two nights had passed since the introduction of the brothers into her home and Sam still hadn’t woken. The soft light of dawn was just barely peeking into the sky. Roxanne’s head sank to her chest as she dozed lightly in the uncomfortable wooden chair.   
Suddenly, Sam’s chest heaved and his eyes shot open. Startled, Roxanne flew to his side as he thrashed and coughed, his eyes wide and disoriented. She struggled to hold him down.   
“Sam! Sam, it’s ok! You’re safe!”  
He relaxed only slightly, struggling to focus on her face. “Dean,” he rasped. “Where’s Dean?”  
“Dean is fine. He’s asleep in the other room,” Roxanne assured him, still with her hands pressed against his shoulders. “Just relax. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  
Finally, he sank underneath her hands, laying back on the worn wood table. He breathed deeply and slowly, his face tense with pain. Groaning quietly, he turned his head toward his caretaker. “Roxanne?”  
She smiled, mostly in relief. “Hi, Sam.”  
“Wh-…” The look of utter, helpless confusion that crossed his face almost made her laugh.  
“Dean showed up on my doorstep about three days ago. He was dragging you with him, half-dead. He begged me for help, and I patched you up that best I could. But you still shouldn’t move for another few days. “  
Sam’s eyes closed as he tried to process everything she had told him. Roxanne stood quietly until he opened them again. He didn’t seem to know what to say. So, she placed a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back from his eyes.   
“Sleep. I’ll be here, and Dean too, when you wake up,” she whispered.

Dean woke around noon and came shuffling out of the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sam lay still on the table, and Roxanne was asleep in a chair next to him. She shifted stiffly in her sleep, humming softly with a worried expression. Her spaghetti-strap top had ridden up, exposing a strip of her abdomen. Suddenly she flinched and her eyes fluttered open, falling on Dean. Her face cleared, and she smiled.  
“Morning,” she yawned.   
Dean kept his voice low. “Mornin’…” He stepped around the table to plop into a chair beside her. “How is he?”  
She stretched with a smile. “He woke up last night around 3.” Her shirt caught her attention and she quickly curled and pulled it down with pink-tinted cheeks. “Basically flipped out, calling for you and such. I managed to talk him down.”  
Dean dragged a hand across his face. “Eesh.”  
The table creaked under Sam’s weight as he shifted, soliciting a grunt of pain as he aggravated his injuries. The sting was apparently enough to wake him. He yawned, then turned his head to where he knew Roxanne would be. Both his nurse and his brother grinned at him.   
“Mornin’ sunshine.” Relief was evident in Dean’s greeting. “How ya feelin’?”  
“Like I got run over by a bus,” Sam groaned.  
Dean chuckled. “He’s fine.”  
Standing, Roxanne stretched again, then perched on the edge of the table to check Sam’s injuries. She checked the incisions with an expert eye, following the diagonal gashes from his collarbone to his waist. “Speaking of…” Both brothers looked at her. “How in the world did this happen?”  
Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and threw his brother a glance. Sam laid his head back and, after returning his brother’s silent communication, stared pointedly at the ceiling.   
After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Roxanne sighed. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” With that, she hopped off the table and turned on her heel, heading for the pantry.  
The boys conversed quietly, in whispers really, while she made breakfast, setting the last of the bacon sizzling cheerfully in the pan and a meagre amount of oatmeal bubbled sluggishly beside it. After digging through the cabinets, she managed to find the remains of a box of pancake mix, which she quickly utilized. Soon the warm, buttery smell of pancakes filled the air, accompanied with the sharp, meaty scent of bacon. Roxanne chuckled softly as both men started sniffing the air hungrily. She slid the hot bacon onto a paper towel-covered plate and the pancakes on another. “Hey Dean? Go get some pillows from the living room, would you?”  
Dean stood. “Yeah.”  
When he returned, he helped Roxanne prop Sam in a half-sitting-up position. Then Roxanne brought the food, setting the bacon and pancakes in front of Dean, then sat on the edge of the table next to Sam, holding a bowl of oatmeal.  
Sam looked longingly at Dean’s food, then turned his best puppy-dog eyes on Roxanne.  
She laughed. “Sorry, Sam. You’ll get there.” She scooped up a spoonful with a mischievous glint in her eye and hovered it near his mouth.   
He glared at her, the opened his mouth grudgingly. He took the mouthful, then shot Dean a venomous glance. His brother was practically choking on his breakfast.   
The trio spent the next few minutes in silence; the only sound was the clinking of silverware. Eventually, the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and Dean munched contentedly on his last bite of bacon. Roxanne flashed Sam an apologetic smile and hopped off the table, collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink.  
“Wait… What about you?”  
Roxanne turned from the sink and towards the tall young man on her dining room table. “What about me?”  
Sam shifted. “Breakfast. You haven’t eaten.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Yeah.”  
Roxanne tried to shrug them off. “Oh, I’m not hungry.”  
Concern crinkled Sam’s brow. “Not hungry?”  
Leaning back in his chair, Dean pinned her with an incredulous stare. “Bull. There’s something you’re not telling us.” He cocked his head to the side. “Shouldn’t you be at work? You’ve been here for three days. You nurses work ridiculous hours, don’t you?”  
Roxanne flicked water from her fingers and fiddled with her ponytail with her dry hand. “I… don’t work at the hospital anymore.”  
Dean pulled out a chair next to him, telling her silently to sit.  
Sighing, Roxanne sat stiffly on the edge. “I resigned…”  
Two pairs of eyebrows hit their hairlines. Roxanne avoided looking either of them in the eye.  
“… Why?” Dean’s response sounded more like a statement than a question.  
“It just… wasn’t… right for me anymore.” She had to force her muscles to relax.  
Both brothers looked at her disbelievingly. She stood up quickly. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly. Spinning quickly on her toes, she retreated to the kitchen area, ignoring the two pairs of confused eyes boring into her back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one lol. It's not typical, so don't get used to it ;)

The next few days passed uneventfully. The brother’s avoided the topic of Roxanne’s employment, and she didn’t ask where they got the money Dean had used to surprise her with groceries one day. It was that same money that was burning a hole in Roxanne’s pocket when she left Dean to watch his brother while she bought a few necessities that they had run out of. It felt good to be out and about, feeling the sun on her face and saying hello to the people she passed. Such a thing was considered trivial by many, but for her it had become a rarity.  
As she was checking out, her cell phone rang. Without glancing at the caller ID, she snapped it open and held it to her ear.  
“Roxanne?? Get home quick, there’s something wrong-“  
Roxanne cut across his panicked babbling. “Dean? Hold up, stop. Take a breath. Now, what’s wrong?”  
Heavy, shuddering breaths came over the line. “It’s Sam, he- he’s in pain. H-he can’t breathe, something’s wrong!”  
Ice formed in her core. “There in five. Keep him propped up and don’t let him move!” She slapped the phone shut and shoved it in her pocket with shaking hands. She forced her legs into a tight trot, then an all-out sprint toward the house.  
Let him die.  
Like hell.

Exactly five minutes later, Roxanne burst through the door, dropped her things beside it, and dashed into the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway, breathing heavily, but evenly. Quickly, she took in the scene.  
Sam was on the table, groaning and choking. His incisions were all shades of red. His chest heaved jerkily as he struggled to breathe, apparently through his own blood. The thick red liquid bubbled through his lips with each choking cough.  
Dean stood at his side, pure fear heavy on his face. He grasped his brother’s arm, holding him still. Upon her entry, he looked up, obviously on the verge of tears.  
“Help him…”   
Her heart broke.  
Roxanne stepped up to the table, anxiously flicking her eyes and hands over her patient. Despair settled darkly on her heart as she met Dean’s eyes. “Dean…”  
“You can save him… You can…” His voice melted into desperation.  
“I-“ Roxanne wanted to cry. “He’s bleeding internally… Dean… I ca-“ Her sudden intake of breath cut off her words. She felt something, a strange feeling radiating from the depths of her being. But… dammit. “Out.”  
“What??”  
“You. Out. Now. Go into the living room, shut the door. Wait ten minutes, then come in here, get your brother, and get as far away from here as you can.”  
“What the hell are you talking about??”  
Stress almost overwhelmed her. “Just do it!” she snapped.  
After a second of stunned silence, Dean warily backed out of the room, closing the door slowly.  
Turning back to the table, Roxanne took a shaky breath and close her eyes. The sound of Sam gagging made her want to hurl.  
Save him.  
No.  
DO IT!  
… If I must.  
Pressure built inside of her, till she could no longer contain it. She placed her hands on his chest and everything went dark.

Ow… Roxanne squirmed slightly. Why can’t I-… Oh. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the light and blurriness. Sam sat in front of her, looking pale and apprehensive, but alive. Dean stood beside him. The pure rage in his face made her look away. She turned her head stiffly, taking in the brothers, the strange symbols painted on her ceiling, and the dining room chair she was tied to. She smiled wryly. “Well. I’m not the only one with secrets, it seems.   
Dean stepped directly in front of her, his eyes stormy. “Who are you?”  
“Roxanne Manson.”  
“Liar.”  
“Or not.”  
Dean crouched to her eye level. “Let’s try this again.” He slapped her across the cheek. “What are you??” he roared.  
“Dean!” Sam rose slightly from his chair.  
Roxanne squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the tears that threatened to slip down her stinging cheek. She slowly turned her head to meet his eyes. “I am human. Like you.”  
Dean gripped her face with one hand. “You…”  
“But,” she interrupted. “I have a… I…” she sighed in frustration. “There’s someone else. In me.”  
Sam leaned forward, apparently completely healed, with confusion in his eyes. “You’re, what, possessed?”  
Roxanne nodded the best she could. “It seems so.”  
Dean let go and waved his hand angrily. “If you were possessed, we’d be talking to the demon.”  
Roxanne pinned him with an icy glare, her frustration apparent. “I have control of my body… Most of the time.”  
“Most of the time?”  
Tipping her head, she leaned against the ropes. “Once, I allowed her to take control.” Her gaze shifted to Sam, softening slightly. “It’s how I healed you.”  
The young man recoiled in surprise and a bit of disgust. “You… a demon saved me?”  
Hurt flickered in her face. “Yes. I forced her to.”  
Dean stood silently, staring at her. “Let me talk to it.”  
Roxanne looked shocked. “No.”  
The blonde stood squarely in front of her. “Do it.”  
Glaring venomously, Roxanne protested once more. “Dean, she doesn’t always cooperate. If I let her out now, you may… lose me. You’ll be stuck with her.”  
Same glanced worriedly at his brother, who stood unwavering with his arms crossed.  
“Do it.”  
Roxanne locked her eyes on Dean’s, trying to transmit all her anger and hurt through a single glance. Slowly, she relaxed, exhaling, gently at first, then forcefully as it turned into a pained moan, then a short shriek. She felt the dark presence surge triumphantly from below, enveloping her sense in a cold, dark, stifling blanket.  
She blinked.  
Now, she was a spectator, watching through a haze the bizarre spectacle of her body being controlled by someone – something – else.  
The demon lifted Roxanne’s head from the back of the chair, slowly. Her features had sharpened, her cheeks sunken. What was unusual was that her eyes had turned yellow and morphed into an animal’s, rather than the typical black of a demonic possession. She blinked, then smiled, a feral, seductive smirk, ruined by the rows of pointed canines that pricked her lips.  
“Well, well, well. The Winchester boys. Finally, we meet face-to-face.” She eyed them up and down.  
Through the haze, Roxanne could see each motion the demon made with her body. But it wasn’t her. The seductive movements, the wild-card, bad girl personality, it wasn’t her.  
Dean leveled his gun at her forehead. The yellow, wolfish eyes gleamed up at him.  
“Spill.”  
“What, my guts or my brains?” Her eyes twinkled in sultry amusement at her own joke. She flexed languidly beneath her bonds, stretching her torso and shifting her hips, all the while spreading her fingers against the armrests. A grating, scratching sound drifted to the brothers’ ears.  
Sam’s eyes widened slightly when he found the source of the noise – A long, dangerous set of claws had pushed out from her nailbeds. “Dean… Does she look at all familiar to you?”  
Dean glanced at him, exasperated. “It’s a demon wearing our friend as a meat-suit. Of course she does, Sammy.”  
Sam stood and put a restraining hand on his arm, gesturing with the other. “No, no- the eyes, the teeth, claws. What does that look like to you?”  
Slowly, realization dawned on his rugged face. “A wolf? What, now there are werewolf demons?” He kicked the chair. “Talk. What are you?” he growled.  
The demon tipped her head, pouting, in a gesture that would have been endearing – without the eyes and teeth. She sighed. “So long… Everyone’s forgotten me.” She met their eyes with fierce pride. “My name is Lupa.”  
Sam knit his brow. “Lupa… the mother wolf from Roman mythology?”  
That predatory grin spread across her face again. “Excellent. But mother of what, Sam Winchester?”  
He raked a hand through his hair. “The first werewolf.”  
Dean looked at his brother. “What, as in, the big brother? The most powerful, what?”  
Sam looked thoughtful. “There’s a lot of lore on the ‘first’ of the different monsters. They’re sometimes called Alphas.”  
Lupa rolled her shoulders slowly. “Ah, yes. My firstborn. Such a handsome, talented boy. That is, until one of you scumbag hunters killed him.” Her voice and face turned fiercely angry and bitter.   
In contrast, Dean looked quite satisfied. “Well. One less blood-sucking creep for us to deal with.”  
The wolf growled deep in her throat. “I should kill you…”  
Dean leaned close to her bared teeth with a smug grin on his face. “Well, you can’t. So why don’t you just smoke your way out of there and give us our friend back?”  
Now it was Lupa’s turn to look smug. “I can’t.”  
Sam stepped forward again. “Why not?”  
She shrugged lazily. “I’m trapped. Why, I don’t know. What I do know is that the last time I tried to get out, your precious friend almost died. So, we’ve learned to coexist.”  
Dean dragged a hand down his face, planting the other on his hip. He turned to his brother. “What are we supposed to do?”  
Sam looked lost. “I… have no idea. We can’t exorcise it, and we can’t…. you know.”  
“Yeah…” Dean nodded, staring at the demon. “Bring Roxanne back.”  
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”  
Stepping forward, Dean planted his hands on her forearms, leaning hard. “Get down, doggy. Hand over the wheel.”  
With a sigh and a pout, Lupa tossed her head, moving her face nearer to Dean’s. “If I must.” Her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward, nearly hitting Dean. He jerked back, then watched.   
Roxanne felt the blanket receding. She was being stretched; she felt like she was on fire. Then, whooshing, and a feeling like a roller coaster. Then darkness.  
Roxanne didn’t move. “Roxanne?” Dean knelt in front of her, peering up into her face. “Hey, Roxanne. You in there?” He patted her cheek, then glanced back at his brother, seeing his own concern mirrored in Sam’s face. “I don’t think she’s breathin-“  
Roxanne gasped violently, snapping her head up. Dean jumped back, startled. Her chest heaved, and her eyes were wild, but only for a moment. She quickly collected herself. She rested her head on the back of her chair with her eyes closed, feeling exhausted. Then, she straightened and faced the brothers, both of which now stood in front of her.  
“Satisfied?”   
“Are you… you?” Dean asked.  
She raised her eyebrows, lacking the energy to give him the glare he deserved. “What do you think, dumbass?”  
Sam coughed, hiding a laugh. “Yep. It’s her.”  
Dean still didn’t look convinced. “So, you really can control it.”  
“Yes. But it’s dangerous to let her take over like that. It gets harder every time to come back.” Roxanne wriggled a bit, wincing as the ropes chafed at her arms and ankles. “Could you at least untie me?”  
The brothers exchanged a look, then Sam stepped forward, pulling a rather large pocket knife out of his back pocket. He circled to the back of the chair and started sawing away the ropes that bound her. After about a minute of silence and sawing, she was free.  
She stood and stretched, rolling her neck and swinging her arms. Then she rubbed her wrists and ankles. “Thanks.”  
Sam pocketed the knife and stepped out of the trap. “It seems I owe you, so, don’t mention it.”   
Roxanne responded with a quiet smile. She glanced up at the ceiling, examining the markings that had been painted across her home. “Now, explain. How the hell do you already know about all this crap, and what the hell have you done to my house??”  
Dean smiled a bit, while Sam laughed out loud. Dean responded, “We’re hunters. We kind of do this sort of thing for a living.”  
Roxanne eyes widened. “‘This sort of thing’, as in, hunting down demons? And werewolves apparently?”  
“And just about every other creepy crawly from legend and fairy tales.”  
She rubbed the back of her neck with her eyebrows scrunched together. “So… It’s all real? Monsters, ghosts, all of it?”  
Sam lowered himself back into his chair. “Unfortunately.”  
Letting her hand drop to her hip, she shifted her weight to one side. “Oh.”  
“You’re taking this really well.”  
Roxanne met Dean’s eyes with a small smile. “I’ve got a werewolf demon thing holed up in my insides. At this point, I’ll believe just about anything.”  
“Oh, and the thing on your ceiling is called a devil’s trap. Catch a demon in one of these, they’re stuck. No escaping unless the line gets broken.”  
“Huh.” Roxanne examined the markings, then moved toward the edge. A barrier stopped her at the rim.  
“See?”  
She shot him a look, then kept pushing until, suddenly, it gave way and she stumbled forward, stopping just short of Dean’s chest.   
He looked down at her, eyebrows raised, surprise evident. Their faces were inches apart. A few seconds passed, then Roxanne averted her eyes and stepped back. She turned toward Sam, who looked completely shocked.  
“How…”  
Roxanne shrugged, smirking. “Turns out, if you’re stubborn enough, they aren’t really up to par.”


	6. Chapter 6

Roxanne rolled onto her stomach in the bumpy motel bed. She blinked slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Something had woken her – a burning, itching sensation on the inside of her left forearm.  
It had been two months since the Winchester boys turned up on her doorstep – two months since she had left her entire life behind and hit the road with them. They didn’t like the idea of just leaving her possessed and alone, and they couldn’t do anything to free her from her ‘hitchhiker’. So they brought her along. Already she had seen things… things she wanted to believe were just horror stories. But, as it turned out, the real world was a hell of a lot more real than she had once thought.   
Dean snorted and rolled over in the other bed. He and Sam had been taking turns sleeping on the floor or on a couch when it was available. Roxanne could just make out the big, lumpy silhouette of the younger brother stretched out against the opposite wall.   
With a yawn, she rolled out of bed, standing and stretching. Her sweatpants slouched to the floor around her small feet, and her spaghetti-strap cami rode up a bit at her waist. She relaxed, then grabbed her toiletries bag and shuffled into the bathroom. After closing the door, she hit the light switch, squinting at her rumpled reflection in the mirror. Her layered, shoulder-length brown hair was ruffled up at the sides, which she solved with a quick, dog-like shake of her head. She raked the fingers of her right hand backwards through the mop, then froze.  
Her forearm – where the irritation had occurred – was graced by a bold black marking, like a tattoo. The strange runes stood out starkly against her skin, and weren’t in any language she recognized. Twisting, she closely examined it with an air of panic. The tattoo had appeared overnight and out of nowhere, as if it had just burned itself into her skin. Bracing herself against the counter she hung her head and closed her eyes, steadying her breathing.  
This was the fourth one.  
Every couple of weeks a new one would appear. The first was the most painful. It woke her in the dead of night; it took all of her restraint not to scream. It was as if someone had placed a red-hot brand across her lower back and pressed it into her flesh. With one hand clamped over her mouth and tears streaming down her face, she had stumbled into the bathroom and quickly locked herself in. Her breath came in short, tortured gasps. But, as suddenly as it had appeared, the pain vanished, leaving her teary-eyed and shaky. When she turned her back to the mirror and lifted her shirt to investigate, a long string of those same runes glared out at her in a supernatural tramp stamp.   
The second had barely woken her, a single letter on the back of her neck at the base of her skull. The third had burned a bit more, another string of characters encircling her right upper arm. This new one was similar to the second – only a bit of itching that yielded a single, ancient-looking rune. Lupa had been silent since the first appearance of these tattoos. Help would not come from her.   
Taking a deep breath, Roxanne pushed herself upright and met her own gaze in the mirror. It was getting harder and harder to hide these changes from the two men. Each one was a little more obvious than the last. She rubbed her face, then stripped, stepping quickly into a hot shower. She liked the way the water seemed to wash away all her worries, if only for a moment.   
All too soon, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel. She paused, then groaned, dropping her head back with a sigh. All of her clothes were still sitting on her bed. Carefully, she cracked the door. Dean was still dead asleep. Sam was gone, probably out for coffee and breakfast.  
With a deep breath, she stepped quietly toward her bed. Uneasily, she eyed Dean’s sleeping form, then elected to quickly change with her back to him. The bathroom was all wet and steamy anyway. As quickly as she could, she slipped into her undergarments, then white washed skinny jeans and a fitted black crew neck tee. Once dressed, she relaxed and sat on the edge of her bed to start on her hair.   
“I didn’t know you had a tat.” Dean’s sleep-fogged mumbling startled her.   
“Wh-what?” She shifted on the bed to face him, pulling her shirt down quickly.  
He grinned sleepily. “That little tramp stamp you got. I didn’t know it was there.” Sitting up and turning, he yawned and ruffled his hair with both hands, resting his elbows on his knees.   
Roxanne felt her cheeks warm as she stood and quickly pulled a red plaid flannel button-down over her shirt. It had once belonged to one of the brothers, so the sleeves were rolled many times up to below her elbows, and the hem reached her thighs. “It, ah, it’s been there a while.”  
Dean crinkled his brow. “Has it?”   
She nodded, not making eye contact.  
“Huh.” He shrugged. “Imma get in the shower. Let me know when Sam gets back.”  
“Sure.” Roxanne sat back down on her bed. When he finally disappeared into the bathroom, she let out a breath. She definitely wasn’t going to be able to keep it hidden for much longer.

Heart pounding, Roxanne drew her gun from her waistband. She was crouched behind Dean as he carefully picked the lock that stood between them and retrieving their property. As far as Roxanne could tell, a woman, Bella, had stolen a weapon from the brothers – a powerful one at that. They called it the Colt. Apparently it was strong enough to obliterate most any demon or monster.   
Click. Dean glanced back at her, then to Sam, and nodded. The two responded in kind. He silently turned the nob, then quickly moved into the interior of the room, gun at the ready.  
It was empty.  
Sighing with frustration, both brothers tucked away their weapons, then set about searching the room, going through every drawer.  
As they searched, the phone rang. Dean slowly lifted the receiver. A tinny female voice reached Roxanne’s sensitive ears.   
“Dean? Sweetie, are you there?”  
Dean’s jaw tensed, but his voice was dangerously pleasant. “Where are you?”  
“Two states away by now.”  
“Where.”  
“Where’s our usual quippy banter? I miss it.”  
“I want it back Bella. Now.”  
“Your little pistol, you mean? Sorry. I can’t at the moment.”  
“You understand how many people are gonna die if you do this?”  
“What exactly is it that you think I plan to do with it?”  
“Take the only weapon we have against an army of demons and sell it to the highest bidder.”  
The woman paused, then spoke quietly. “You know nothing about me.”  
“I know I’m gonna stop you.”  
“Tough words for a guy who can’t even find me,” she snarked back.   
“Oh I’ll find you, sweetheart. You know why? Because I have absolutely nothing better to do than to track you down.” His voice was dangerously pleasant.   
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re about to be quite occupied. Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?”  
Roxanne saw Dean’s confusion, then apprehension, right before the door exploded open. Armed federal agents flooded the room, all shouting.  
“Drop your weapons!”  
“Hands above your head!”  
“Get down on the ground now!”  
Slowly, Roxanne knelt, allowing an agent to take her gun. She barely heard the officer reciting their rights. She could only feel the cold metal of handcuffs restricting her wrists. She glanced worriedly over to Dean, who was in the same situation. Fear rose in her throat as she lay face down in the carpet.  
Booted feet passed her eyes. “Hi guys.”  
Along with the other two, she looked up. An African American man stood there, an FBI agent.  
“It’s been a while.”

Roxanne sat on the cot in her cell, curled against the wall. Her hands and feet were chained. Her only comfort was that she was across from Sam and Dean. They could see each other, maybe talk to each other. She hadn’t taken her eyes off them since Henrikson locked them up.   
Speak of the devil…  
The man himself sauntered into the cell block and stopped in front of the Winchesters. Smug victory seemed to roll off him in waves. He stood with his back to Roxanne and proceeded to gloat over their capture, even going so far as to take shots at John Winchester. And the young nurse could do nothing but glare, imagining her eyes burning holes in his back.  
After a while, Dean glanced around Henrikson to meet her eyes. Her ferocity melted away into desperation and fear. His lips quirked up in that smug little smirk of his, and he winked at her. The gesture offered a small amount of comfort, but the movement caught Henrikson’s eye.  
“Oh, right. The new piece of the puzzle. The one that I haven’t really figured out where it goes.” The agent turned to face Roxanne with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a file. He opened it, and began to read, occasionally glancing up to see her reaction. “Roxanne Manson, 24. Got a brother you don’t talk to – other than that, no immediate family. Graduated early and Suma Cum Laude from one of the best high schools in the state, got almost a full ride scholarship to one of the best medical schools in the country. Graduated with a degree in nursing. Worked at a hospital, shot to the top of the ladder, and was gunning for another promotion.” He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Sound familiar?”  
Roxanne just sat, stone-faced.  
“Ok, where was I… Ah, here we go. Before being awarded said promotion, Roxanne Manson resigned her position and basically dropped out of sight, before disappearing without any warning from her home and basically dropping off the face of the earth.” Henrikson lowered the file, closing it and tucking it behind his back. “I bet that’s when you met the Winchester boys, wasn’t it? And that’s my problem.” He paced a bit, then looked up again. “What happened, Roxanne? Why’d you quit, then run off with two of the most wanted criminals in the country? What did they promise you?”  
“They didn’t promise me anything,” she said softly, dropping her eyes.   
“Then why’d you leave? Talk to me.”  
Silence.  
“You know, there’s no record of any distinguishing markings and yet, when we searched you we found four,” He held up four fingers. “four different tribal-esque tattoos. Obviously something changed. What was it?”  
Roxanne glanced across the way. Sam and Dean were exchanging confused looks.  
Henrikson leaned on the bars. “C’mon, Miss Manson. These two are going away for life. They’re never gonna see the light of day again. But you? Spotless record. You could get out, be free, leave these guys in the past. You just have to work with me, here.”  
Finally, Roxanne looked up, frustration in her face, but her voice was soft. “Number one: I don’t want to leave them behind. They’re all I have…” She trailed off, briefly meeting Dean’s eyes, then turning back to Henrikson, her ferocity renewed. “Number two: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  
“Try me.”  
Roxanne raised her eyebrows, looking incredulous. “Alright then…” She took a breath. “I first met the Winchester boys a year or two ago, when they and their father were in a severe car accident. I was the head nurse on their case. I was there when their father passed… Then, they were gone, out of my life. You already know I resigned… A month after that, they showed up on my doorstep. They needed help, so I gave it to them. And in return they helped me.”  
“Helped you with what?”  
“This is the part where you write me off as another head case.” She stood and stretched casually. “A few days before I resigned, I got possessed.”  
Now it was Henrikson’s turn to look incredulous. “Possessed. Like, by a demon?”  
She nodded. “Yeah. And for some reason, I was still in control of my body, and she – the demon – couldn’t get out. I knew it was too dangerous for me to be out in the world, so I quit. And when Sam and Dean showed up and told me what they knew… well, I knew the way everyone would be safe was if I went with them.” She stepped closed to the bars, leaning in till she was nose-to-nose with the agent. “So? Do you believe me?”  
He stood silently for a moment, then stepped back. “No.”  
She shrugged. “Told you.” With that, she firmly turned her back on him and returned to her place on the bed.  
After a moment, he left. As soon as he was out the door, Dean leaned forward. “You ok, Roxanne?”  
“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up.” She gave him a wry smile. “Y’all didn’t tell me you were wanted.”  
Dean chuckled, leaning back. “Must’ve slipped our minds.”  
A few minutes later, footsteps once again echoed along the hallway. Metal slid on metal as the door to the cell block ground shut. Immediately, all three were on alert. Roxanne felt something, a cold tugging in her gut. Something’s wrong… Dean stood.  
Yet another cocky, self-satisfied suit took his place in front of the Winchester’s cell. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I’m deputy director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure.”  
“Glad one of us feels that way,” Dean responded sarcastically.  
“I’ve been waiting a long time for you two to come out of the woodwork.”   
Roxanne saw the gun seconds before it was fired. “De-“  
A silenced bullet ripped into Dean’s shoulder. “Augh!!”  
“Dean!!”  
Sam jumped up as Dean staggered back, ducking down onto the bed. Roxanne could only watch helplessly as Sam wrestled with the gunman. She suddenly heard him reciting an exorcism. He’s possessed. Of course…  
A grating voice emanated from the man. “Sorry, fellas. Gonna have to cut this short.” Black smoke billowed from his mouth and through the ceiling vent, then the dead man slumped to the ground, leaving the gun in Sam’s hands.   
Agents flooded the cell block.  
(insert more long-winded dialogue here)  
“Check the body, he’s probably been dead for months.” Dean’s pain-streaked voice battered Roxanne’s heart.  
“What did you do to him?”  
“We didn’t do anything!!”  
“He was possessed.” Sam said evenly.  
“Possessed. Right.” Henrikson’s exasperation was evident.  
“It’s true.” Heads turned to look at Roxanne, who stood gripping the bars of her cell. “Look around you! Dean’s the one with a bullet-hole in him, not Groves!”  
Henrikson ignored her. “Fire up the chopper. We’re taking them out of here now.”  
“Yeah, do that!”  
But only static came over the radio.  
“They got there first,” Roxanne whispered.   
Minutes later, while the officers frantically loaded their weapons, the electricity went out.  
Both brothers stood slowly. Roxanne stepped back from the bars.  
“That can’t be good.”


	7. Chapter 7

A few minutes, a fight, and an exorcism later, everyone gathered in the main office area, then spread out to look for supplies and weapons. Dean sat on a desk looking at a blueprint while Roxanne bandaged his shoulder. He winced.  
“Hold still,” she said softly. She smiled a bit. “Sam barely struggled when I stitched him up.”  
Dean gave her a look. “Sam was unconscious.”  
She shrugged. “Eh.”  
Once she was done, Dean stood. “Thanks.” He addressed an officer. “Where’s my car?”  
“Impound lot out back.”  
“I gotta get something out of my trunk.”  
Roxanne busied herself carefully lining the doors and windows in salt. While she was pouring it, a couple grains brushed her fingers. “Ouch!” she hissed, and jerked her hand back. The salt had burned her.  
Sam looked over. “You ok?”  
“Yeah, the, uh, the salt burned me…”  
He raised his eyebrows, then nodded. “Guess you’re gonna have to be extra careful, then.”  
She sighed, leaning against the wall. “Yeah.”  
Sam finished the salt line, the straightened, looking at her inquisitively. “So, four tattoos, huh?”  
She rolled her eyes. “… Yeah.” Reluctantly, she extended her left arm and rolled up the sleeve, then slipped her right arm out of her over shirt momentarily. “There’s two.” She turned and lifted her hair, then her shirt just enough to expose the marks.   
Sam raised his eyebrows again. “Huh.”  
Turning back around, she pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “You know what the best part is? I have no idea where they came from.”  
“Wait, reall-“  
“THEY’RE COMING!!”  
Dean came sprinting down the hallway, shouting at the top of his lungs. Everyone ran to the office, gathering together in a fearful bunch.  
Roxanne drew close to Dean, lightly touching his jacket with her fingertips.  
A massive, roiling cloud of black smoke broke upon the station like waves on rock. All light was snuffed out by the darkness that engulfed them. The walls of the station shook and creaked as the demon horde strove to find a weakness, any way in. Eventually, silence descended once again.  
“Everybody ok?” Sam asked.  
Henrikson responded. “Define ok.”  
Dean dumped his duffel on a desk. “Alright, everybody needs to put these on.” He pulled out several necklaces, each with a small charm dangling from the end. “They’ll keep you from being possessed.” Dean pulled Roxanne’s gun from the recesses of the bag and tossed it to her.   
She caught it and nodded her thanks, checking the clip and tucking it into the back of her jeans.  
“What about you and Sam?” Nancy, the secretary, asked.  
Both brothers pulled aside their collars to reveal tattoos identical to the charms.  
“Smart. How long y’all had those?”  
“Not long enough.”  
Roxanne sat on a desk silently, leaning back on her hands.  
Again, Nancy piped up. “Roxanne didn’t get a necklace..?”  
All eyes turned to her, as if they expected her to flash her own tattoo. Roxanne glanced over at Sam and Dean, then sighed, leaning forward.  
“I, ah…. I don’t need one.”  
“Why?”  
Roxanne glanced over at Henrikson. “… Because I’m… Already possessed.” Two guns whipped around to point at her. “But!!” She raised her hands, palms out. “But, I am in control.”  
Henrikson lowered his weapon. “Right…”  
The younger officer didn’t. “Wait, how does that work? How do we know you’re not just the demon lying to us?” His voice was panicky.  
Dean put a hand on the barrel and pushed it down. “Because we trust her. Besides, if Lupa had the wheel, we’d know.”  
Sliding off the desk, Roxanne balanced on the balls of her feet, lifting herself up and down as she pulled her gun from the waistband of her pants. She gave the officer a nonchalant wink. “That you would.”  
They continued fortifying the station, salting every window, door, or even crack in the wall. Devil’s traps covered the floors and ceilings, and Dean put Henrikson to work packing shotgun shells with rock salt. As they worked, a distant crash startled them all.  
Dean ran into the back room to find Roxanne and Ruby standing nose-to-nose, one inside a devil’s trap, one on the outside.   
“Lupa. How’d you get out of your crate?” The blonde’s blood-spattered face creased in a sarcastic smirk.   
“Probably the same way you escaped your whore-house.” Damn it, Lupa, you don’t get a say. 

The battle was ugly. Bloody. But they won. They survived. As usual, the three slipped away before the emergency response teams arrived. They dropped, exhausted, in their motel room. Roxanne headed for the doorway, standing in the doorway of the bathroom in her jeans and undershirt. But before they could have even a moment’s peace, the blonde bi-atch extraordinaire stormed in, fuming.   
“Turn on the news.”  
Sam complied.   
A breaking news story flashes across the screen, showing a smoldering building and the faces of the dead.   
Henrikson. Nancy. The nervous young man.   
All dead.   
Ruby started to rant, gesturing violently. Roxanne blocked her out, retreating into the bathroom and closing the door. She stared blankly ahead. We promised they would be safe. We promised we would protect them! A tear slipped down her blood stained cheek. We failed… She lowered herself to the cold bathroom floor, curling.   
We failed….


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running out of buffer!! This is where I start skipping around a lot and kinda hopping seasons a bit. I might just post what I have, then add in filler chapters later if that's cool with y'all.

Roxanne lay back on her bed in the motel room, staring absently at the ceiling, her forehead creased. They had just gotten back from a particularly nasty hunt; Sam and Dean had gone out for food, leaving her contemplatively silent. It had been a month since the police station – one month since three innocent people had died at Lilith’s hand.   
Suddenly, she swung herself to her feet, shaking her head gently. No use dwelling. No use at all. Moving jerkily, she stripped off her outer shirt, grimacing as the dirty cloth clung to her arms. She tossed it on a pile in the corner, then peeled off her t-shirt, leaving only her simple black bra and jeans. From where she was standing, she had an angle on the bathroom mirror. For a split second, she didn’t even recognize herself.   
Her straight dark hair had lengthened, falling in her sad, tired eyes. Any excess fat she had been carrying had melted away to lean, hard muscle. Her face and torso were thinner, with a new myriad of thin scars, varying in age, and the bold blackness of her tattoos glaring out from her skin. Her cheek and collar bones stood out, but she didn’t look unhealthy. She was a lean, mean, fighting machine now.   
As distracted as she was by her new appearance, Dean’s entrance went completely unnoticed. He stood there, eyeing her back, with concern and appreciation. After a full minute, he swung the door open loudly and let it swing shut. “Hey, we’re back.”  
Roxanne jumped violently, then darted into the bathroom, almost slamming the door. “Damn it, Dean! Don’t do that!”  
He raised his eyebrows in false innocence and dropped the plastic bags he was carrying onto the little table. “Do what?” He grinned. “That’s not a bad look, by the way. You should work it more often.”  
She glared fiercely at him. “You shut up. Now turn around so I can grab a clean shirt.”  
“I could just, you know, close my eyes-“  
“Absolutely not. Turn your sorry ass around.”  
“Fine.” He nonchalantly swung around to face the door, holding his arms out from his sides as if to say he meant no harm. Bull.  
Carefully, she leaned out, then ran to her bag, fished out a shirt and ran back to the bathroom. She pulled it on – it being a form-fitting tank top that showed off just a little too much – and stepped out, still glaring. “Alright, you perv. I’m clothed.”  
He swung around, still grinning. He met her eyes with a twinkle of mischief; one that was suddenly extinguished. “Those tats. What are they?”  
Roxanne sighed, undid her ponytail, raked her hair back, and redid it. “… I don’t know.”  
Before Dean could respond, Sam entered, carrying more bags. “Hey.”  
“Hey. You ever find anything on those runes?”  
“Maybe.”  
Raising her eyebrows, Roxanne crossed her arms. “You’ve been researching them?”  
Sam grinned. “Well, yeah. And I think I found something.” He dropped a dusty old tome on the table and flipped it open.  
There they were. The markings, exactly as they appeared on her skin, scrawled across the brittle pages. Strength. Reflex. Intellect. That’s upper arm, forearm, and neck. And the last one. “What does that one mean? The long one.”  
“Doesn’t really translate directly. Means something in the ballpark of of the wolf or bound to the wolf.”   
“Makes sense. But what about the others?”  
They are to keep you alive.   
“Ah!” Pain lanced behind her eyes. Roxanne clapped her hands to her head and staggered backward, dropping heavily onto the bed. What the hell?? What’s your problem?? Where have you been??  
“Roxanne? Roxanne!” Dean knelt in front of her, holding her arms.   
“I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s her – Lupa.”  
The marks are my doing. Human bodies can barely handle regular demons, much less one of my caliber. I almost burned through you. Now I won’t.   
“How considerate…”  
“Hey. What’s going on?”  
Roxanne blinked hard, forcing her muscles to relax and her hands to drop to Dean’s shoulders. “I’m ok. I’m ok.” She took a breath. “Ahh… Damn. The tattoos. Lupa. She said they’re to keep her from burning through my body.”  
Dean looked to Sam, who shrugged. “Makes sense. Didn’t you go through a couple weeks where you felt like you were gonna drop?”  
Roxanne nodded slowly, subconsciously tangling her fingers in his shirt. “Yeah. Hot flashes, splitting head, the works. Subsided when the first one showed up. The long one.”  
More will appear. Your body isn’t nearly strong enough to maintain me for a long period of time.   
Thanks. “She says there will be a few more before I’m totally safe. But I’m ok.”  
Dean stood and sat on the bed next to her, releasing his hold on her. “Well, good, I guess.”  
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging loosely. “Thing is, you’re both more integrated with each other than ever.”


	9. Chapter 9

Stars exploded in her vision as Roxanne’s head cracked against the wall. An agonized grunt sounded next to her as Sam crumpled beneath her. With effort, Roxanne remained standing, leaning back and squinting at their adversaries. Three high-level demons stood cockily in front of them – Lilith’s lieutenants. Behind them, closed double doors rattled against the force of three huge hellhounds throwing themselves against them.  
Roxanne wiped away a thin stream of blood with the back of her gun hand. The useless weapon clattered to the ground.   
In the last few weeks, her already wacked-out life had fallen apart.   
Dean was dying. He’d made some idiot deal to save Sam, and the demon gave him a year. One year. The brothers hadn’t told her until it was almost too late. For two weeks they had been hunting down this new Hell power, Lilith, in a desperate attempt to save him. For two weeks, she had barely spoken to either brother. Except for little gestures toward Dean, she cut them off. Anger, sorrow, and fear engulfed her; she was forced to harden her heart to prevent a collapse. These brothers were all she had, and now she was going to lose one. And there was nothing she could do about it.   
Now, they were separated. Dean was trapped with Lilith and her hounds. Bobby was nowhere to be found. And Sam lay prone on the floor, groaning as he regained consciousness.   
Lupa’s presence swelled in her mind. Release me.  
No. Roxanne steadied herself against the wall, casting her eyes about for a weapon, anything.   
You will all die. Your precious Winchesters will die, she spat.   
… Do it.   
The rushing blackness had never come so fast.  
Lupa now stood over Sam, claws extended, teeth bared in a feral smile. “Now, boys. Who would like to be the first to feed the beast?”  
All three lunged.   
Roxanne barely comprehended what was happening. One moment, she saw her own hands ripping through their human bodies. The next, she stood over the mangled remains, covered in blood, breathing evenly. Her hair was slipping from its confines, falling into her face. Her shirt was torn, exposing a strip of her torso and a sliver of her bra, and unrecognizable as its original color.   
Sam stirred with a groan. His eyes fluttered open, focused, and widened in horror. “Roxanne…?”  
Lupa casually flicked blood and gore from her fingers. “No.”  
He scrambled to his feet, leaning against the wall. “Did you…?”  
“No.”  
Silence.   
“She says hi.”  
With a grating, cracking explosion, the doors blew inward. Dean flew across the room and hit the wall beside him. Lupa merely watched with casual curiosity as he slid to the ground.   
Then enter the monster herself, with her pets in tow. Lilith swayed in, wearing Ruby’s old body. Her eyes were completely white, and the smile held more cruelty and evil than Ruby’s ever had. Dean was dragged away screaming, being shredded by invisible claws. Roxanne screamed and sobbed silently, unable to move or do anything.   
“Lupa, how nice to see you again. Love the new look.”  
DEAN!! NO!!  
Lupa shifted her weight to the right, jutting her hip out and resting a blood-soaked hand there. “How kind. It has been far too long since I’ve been allowed to stretch my legs.”  
YOU DEMON BITCH DO SOMETHING!  
Lilith gestured to her appearance and handiwork. “That wouldn’t happen to be the remains of my henchmen would it? You know how much of a hassle replacing them can be.”  
Lupa lifted her hand as if casually examining her fingernails. “Oh, this? Oh dear. I had hoped they were just a few rogue twits who thought that they could mess up my new face. I’m afraid I’ll be claiming responsibility for this little mess.”  
“Really. Well. No hard feelings.” Her voice turned sweetly sinister. “Unless, of course, you’re going to get in my way.”  
Lupa raised her eyebrows, placing her other hand on her hip. “Yes, about that… I’m afraid it’s not in my best interests to allow this to go any farther.” She lunged, yowling.   
Lilith thrust out a single hand, stopping her midair. She turned her and slammed her face first into the opposite wall. “Oh dear. Bye bye, puppy.” White, burning light filled the room.  
Pain. Excruciating, indescribable pain burned into her back, filling her body. Roxanne screamed in agony with two voices. She felt herself being burned away; Lupa’s presence filled her head, her being, as they both suffered together.   
Then it was dark.


	10. Chapter 10

Her phone rang in the dark motel room. Roxanne grabbed it and flipped it open. “Manson.”  
“Roxanne. It’s nice to hear your voice again.”  
“Hey Bobby. What’s going on?”   
“Got a situation up at the house. How fast can you get here?”  
“You know me nowadays. Pretty damn fast.”  
“Alright. How you been?”  
She paused. “… No better, no worse.”  
“Well, at least that’s something.”  
Silence…  
Bobby sighed. “You’re not even going to ask about him, are you?”  
Immediately, Roxanne’s guard raised. “The bastard who abandoned me?” A snarl crept into her voice. “Hell no.”  
“Ok, ok. Just… You’ll have to make peace with that eventually.”  
“Maybe not.”  
“Just think about it, damn it. I’ll see you soon.”  
“Bye Bobby.” She snapped the phone shut angrily and slapped on the lights. Within minutes she was packed, dressed and heading out the door. 

A few hours later, she was walking up the drive, through the maze of abandoned cars. Her duffle was slung easily over her shoulder, along with a leather jacket. The front steps creaked underneath her as she reached the front door and knocked.   
Bobby answered, a fond smile hidden beneath his beard. “Hey.”  
“Hey. What’s the situation?”  
“What, you can’t take a minute to just say hi?”  
She smirked halfheartedly. “I did.” She hugged him tightly. “Missed you, Bobby.”  
“Missed you too, kid. C’mon in. Gotta warn you, crap just got real weird around here.”  
“How weird?”  
A new voice joined the conversation. “How about, shouldn’t be happening, gotta-be-a-demon kinda weird?”  
The familiar sound hit her straight in the gut. She froze, glanced hard at Bobby, then stepped into the living room, slowly, like a frightened animal.  
There he was.  
Dean Winchester. Alive. Whole. Spotless. Standing right in front of her.   
She dropped her duffle and gave Bobby another sideways look, clenching her jaw.  
“I checked him. For all of it. It’s definitely him.”  
Roxanne approached him slowly, on shaking legs, as if she was afraid he might vanish. He didn’t. He stood there, smiling, as she ghosted her fingertips across his cheek. “… Dean?” Her voice broke.  
“Heya, Roxy. You look good.”  
“So... So do you…” She broke, flinging her arms around his neck. Tears streamed down her face. “I’m not even gonna ask. I don’t want to know, so don’t tell me. Just… you’re here.”  
His arms went around her waist, squeezing her tightly. “Yeah, I’m here. And I’m not leaving.”  
“Good,” she choked out.  
After a few seconds, she released him, scrubbing at her eyes and gaining her composure. “It’s… really damn good to see you-“ Movement behind him caught her eye.   
Sam… The younger brother was lurking in the shadows of the doorway, standing with his hands in his pockets and his face downcast. Roxanne’s smile vanished. She marched straight around Dean, ignoring his inquiries, walked right up to Sam and punched him in the jaw.   
Dean spun, his arms outstretched. “What the hell, Roxanne, what was that for??”  
She didn’t turn. She just stood, drilling the guilty young Winchester with a cold, hard stare as he held his rapidly bruising face. “You. Bastard. Months. No call. No nothing. No evidence whatsoever to tell me that you were alive. That you were ok.”  
“I-“  
“No! You don’t get a say. You don’t get excuses. You were all I had left and you abandoned me when I needed you the most. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through the past six months? Do you have any idea what I’ve had to survive? This isn’t just about you, Sam! You weren’t the only one hurting! You-“ A massive surge of anger choked her. She almost punched him again. She whirled to Bobby, ignoring Dean’s shocked expression. “I told you how I felt about this. You knew.”  
Bobby shrugged. “If I’da told ya, you wouldn’t have come.”  
Roxanne stood for a moment, seething. “I’m gone.” She stormed out, scooping up her bag on the way.   
Dean followed her out into the junkyard. “Roxy. Hey, Roxanne!”  
She stopped short. “What?”  
He circled in front of her and held her upper arms. “Talk to me. What was all that about?”  
Roxanne sighed, slumping and raking her fingers backward through her hair to her ponytail. “Look, Lilith tried to kill us. All of us. But you were the only one she actually got. Sam and I somehow survived but… You were dead. We were desolate. Sam was the worst. But…” She trailed off. “… something else happened… All I know is that instead of killing us, Lupa and me, Lilith merged us somehow. Lupa’s gone. No voices in my head anymore. But it changed me and… I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t know what was happening. I still don’t. But right after the funeral Sam just… vanished. Went completely AWOL. So he left me alone to figure out what sort of demonic crap had happened to me this time and I… I got bitter. Really bitter. So now, what, you’re back, he’s here, and everything’s all back to normal? No. I can’t. I just…”  
Dean listened patiently through the whole thing, his anger level rising, then brushed a hair out of her face. “I didn’t know…”   
“I know. I just can’t stay.”  
“Where will you go?”  
“I’ve been hunting on and off on my own for a while. We’ll see what happens.”  
“Fine. Just… Stay in touch, ok?” His eyes were dark with concern and anger.   
Throwing caution to the winds, Roxanne did something she would forever rack her brains to figure out what on God’s green earth possessed her to do it. She placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled his lips against hers, just for a moment. “I promise.”   
She pulled away from him, pointedly avoiding seeing the shocked look on his face. She turned on her heel and walked away, swinging her duffle over her shoulder once again. “Oh, and Dean?” She paused and turned her head slightly toward him. “Don’t push him away. You are all he has. Maybe you can get him back on the rails.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked away, the void in her heart growing with every step.


End file.
